


Heart Thoughts and Home

by One_Day



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: F/F, Homesickness, Light Angst, Lots of introspective, kind of confusing imagery, listen: florilyn is really good and needs more fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Day/pseuds/One_Day
Summary: The plains are synonymous with happiness. Lyn lets herself indulge, sometimes.





	Heart Thoughts and Home

**Author's Note:**

> Modified version cross posted from my writing sideblog (crocus-leaf.tumblr.com) because I'm just not organized.

Lyn is her mother’s daughter, she knows.

Though she has lived in palaces of shining elegance and finery, with knights and maids to heed her call, she longs for something else, something just beyond her grasp. When she sits, back straight and dressed in stiff-collared formal dresses, Lyndis finds her fingers and limbs seeming to disengage from her brain, tapping and fidgeting of their own accord to some frantic beat. The urge is intrinsic, almost, as if she understands something is amiss in a way that she cannot explain.

It takes her a surprising length to decipher why. But really, she had always known. She had known in the way that her heart twinged when she stood atop the hills overlooking the town, in the natural and Sacaen way she held herself - felt it in the very roots of her hair and through to the marrow of her bones.

She longs to return to the plains. It's simple, really.

She’s homesick; that would be the quick explanation, brief and terse and much too bland for her tastes. More accurately though, Lyn wants to feel the swift winds sweeping against her as they rush over the tall plain grasses, forming waves and teasing out a gentle whisper from each blade - wants to stand on the solid, gritty earth and be taken and welcomed and engulfed by it all at once.

She also longs for the occasional storms, wetting the dry air and electrifying it until every creature feels and knows: rain is coming. She loves how she can smell a tempest brewing on the horizon. The dusty, sweet scent of grass melds with the sea and the rivers and sometimes, as the sky grows dark, Lyn pretends she can smell ashes - a traveler’s campfire being built for the night, perhaps.

She is drawn into thoughts of fields with every throb of blood in her veins, rushing loud and great like the crack of thunder growing nearer. She remembers hearing love songs in the gale.

When she lies still upon her too-soft bed, in a way that may seem childish, she dreams of the warmth of her mother and father, their arms around her and hands calloused from work. She is four years old and holds her ear to her mother's chest as she is rocked gently. Tiny Lyn smiles, because the pulse there is as inalienable as the wind outside and it reminds her that she is strong and free, like everything the Sacaen plains stand for.

-

On good days, Florina visits.

She is brighter and healthier than she looked when they first met. Her shoulders are slightly broader (though perhaps that is simply because they are no longer hunched in, like a frightened mouse), and her arms are lean from practicing the spear.

When Lyndis sees Florina, it reminds her of how much she, too has changed. Now, the swordswoman wears her long emerald hair pleated into loose braids that trail down her neck to the dip between her shoulder blades. She is taller, which as her grandfather says, compliments the more frivolous outfits she wears now (though if she was being honest, she much preferred the simple yet practical clothing of the Lorca tribe).

More often than not, Lyn comes to Florina with the same request, and the skittish girl is happy to oblige. After all, they’ve been friends through thick and thin, and know the other better than the back of their left hand.

The pair fly off with a quick farewell to the Marquess, and follow the drafts of wind sweeping in from the West. Pressed together on Huey’s back, they are the only pinprick of heat in the wide expanse of cerulean sky.

When they land, Lyn slides off quickly, her legs unsteady from the flight, but like a newborn foal, she is quick to regain her balance. The energy and excitement that blooms within her more than makes up for her momentary clumsiness. Meanwhile, with a poised responsibility that Florina has always had, she cares for Huey, granting him a deserved reprieve. Lyn watches from her place leaning casually against a scraggly tree, and thinks for a startling second that she wouldn’t mind if she never saw anyone else.

In the following days, they climb trees and bathe in cool, shimmering streams and race the wild horses on the plains, holding themselves close to the great beasts as hair and mane tangle into an indistinguishable mess until there is no more hair and no more mane and nothing but the whistling wind and a single, powerful creature pressing through it. Thunderous hoofbeats echo across the plains until they are swallowed up by the vast, open space. The steady thumps almost sound like the beating of a heart and they ground her while her wings spread free.

Lyn lets herself be caught up in the present, all exhilaration and tumbling laughter, and it matters not whether she is Lyn or Lyndis; she is the leaf on the wind and the sparkling dew on the yellow grass. She is a tiny piece of the plains and the plains are a part of her, filling her up with emotion like a dying star, but protecting her as she fades back into her own mortal skin.

They set up camp as evening falls and the warmth draws itself from the sun baked earth like water from a well. A flock of birds pass above them, miles high and moving farther still. After a dinner of hard bread and charred rabbits, the pair curl up together on a shared bedroll. The cloth is worn and somewhat rough against her cheek, but she is more distracted by the woman beneath her arm. The air is barely warm now, and the distinct, ever-present scent of the tall grass presses in around them, though Lyn is close enough that she can just distinguish Florina, who reminds her of sweet hay and clustered Black-eyed Susans.

Her steady gaze doesn't go unnoticed, and the shy Pegasus knight buries her growing smile in her sleeve, cheeks flushing a slight pink. Then, the moment passes and the final glowing embers in the fire crackle softly. They talk in hushed voices full of warmth, because as the chill sets in, so too do memories of lost friends and family, taken in vain amongst this wilderness. But the blood no longer runs free and dark on the ground, and Lyn is not weak and not alone. Their legs weave together naturally as they reminisce over silly adventures, names like Eliwood, Hector, Kent, and Sain dripping soft and gold like honey from their lips. A few feet away, Huey knickers quietly, as if contributing his own equine thoughts to his rider’s conversation.

The companions speak of many things, serious and light alike. Lyn inquires the daily going-ons in Ilia and listens raptly to Florina’s rambling stories and complaints, finding joy in her delights and sympathy in her sorrows. When they tire of talking, Lyn pulls the smaller woman close and they remain that way, breaths coming slow and deep in their chests. Sometimes they see fireflies blinking bright in the shadows. The moment is still, filled only with the whisper of a breeze along the field. Their bedroll is warm and safe and it feels so much like home to the pair that they could cry, but they don’t and they fall asleep to the sound of heartbeats.

-

When the two return to the familiar landscape of Caelin, Lyn still rides high on euphoria. She knows the effect the plains have on her. They embrace tightly and share girlish grins as if they have a secret that no one else must know. a few brief words are exchanged and Florina must be heading back to Ilia (she has her own duties now, Lyn reminds herself) but there is no sorrow yet. Holding hands, Florina admits with a hint of embarrassment that she enjoys their escapades almost as much as Lyn does. For a moment they lose themselves in the other but they know there is no rush, for there is eternity to learn and love.

To herself, Lyn notes that this present arrangement feels a bit like falling. She finds that her yearning and exhilaration alike bend and twist her heart into their own special figures, both great and breathtaking in their own right.

Florina takes off into the distance with a final wave, her soft, violet hair streaking out behind her in waves. The shining white Pegasus is a majestic sight against the evening orange, and Lyn reaches out absently to pluck a loose feather from the air. As she twirls it between her fingers, she grins and turns to head back to the castle. A passing guard notices her, and she waves to him jovially, though he gives her an odd expression in return.

Minutes later, Lyn realizes with a start that a smile still crinkles her cheeks.


End file.
